on healing...

after 10 months of stalking people and a fair amount of begging, i've finally landed a spot on a soccer team at the sports park here in corvallis.  i've not played soccer since i slogged around the pitch during college, so i was really excited when i had my first game this weekend.  i only knew 2 people on the team, and we got our asses handed to us, but it was just so good to be playing again that i could have cared less.  i am unsure why i let that part of me (yep, the soccer part of me) fall by the wayside so easily.  initially i think it was all the weight i put on in college, and then later, living in utah, the lack of availability of a league to join.  regardless, when i stepped onto the pitch yesterday it was my first game in 10 years - totally rad.

of course every action has an equal and opposite reaction (or so they say and i am generally inclined to agree), and i today i woke up feeling very much like i'd been rolled over by some kind of large vehicle.  everything - and i do mean everything - hurt.  my body is most definitely not accustomed to high impact exercise.

now i am not saying this to complain.  quite the opposite actually.  the lactic acid buildup in my muscles, the stiffness in my joints - these are things that remind me that: a) i am alive; and b) i get to participate in activities that i love.  there is no bad there.  even the turf burns that are swollen on my knees like wobbly golf balls indicate that: a) i am still a klutz, and thus continue to be able to laugh at myself; and b) i played as hard as i could. 

the one thing that did however toss me for a loop (or more realistically, got my attention a bit more than the soreness), was that two old injuries reared their ugly heads, causing swelling and stiffness that i did not anticipate.  ok, i did anticipate that my ankle would be stiff after being jostled around on the turf and subjected to my instep drive, but i did not think that my torn rotator cuff would be angry as well.  both were cranky and lacked in range of motion despite years and years of rest, yoga, and physical therapy. 

the shoulder was very surprising.  it has been five and a half years since i, like a dumbass, rode my bicycle into a tree jed bartlet style and tore the whole thing open.  despite not having health insurance, i was able to work with my dad on physical therapy, and beyond occasionally tweaking it in a climbing shock-load, it's been pretty silent.  the ankle, a backcountry mishap while at work at aspen, happened a little over three years ago.  the doctor was shocked when he discovered that it was not broken.  it was close to black from bruising, and the swelling was so bad that my leg was one diameter from mid-calf through the top of my foot.  i suppose that with all of that scar tissue it makes sense that i'll be feeling that baby for some time to come.

as i altered poses in my yoga class in order to accommodate my cantankerous joints, i thought about what it takes to fully heal from something.  healing is hard.  when something breaks in the body - goes the way it should not, fractures, bends, tears - one can be pretty sure that a 100% recovery is impossible.  even the smallest of cuts leave scars.  doctors can see where bones have healed, scar tissue limits range of motion, people lose hearing, eyesight, the use of limbs...damage to the body leaves a lasting impact. 

the day after i was evacuated from the field with what we were sure was a broken ankle, the man i had been involved with for years told me he'd met someone else, and left me in an incredibly cruel way.  sitting in therapy a week later, unable to walk and heartbroken, i was able to see that the healing of my body would mirror the healing of my heart.  i'm really good at healing the body (well apparently not considering my stiff joints), or at least i know what goes into healing.  as a lifelong athlete i've had my fair share of sprains, strains, and dislocations.  i understood that time, rest, patience, and care would eventually lead me to be well again.  i decided i would apply this kind of healing to the pain of what had just happened to me. 

as metaphors go, this one is pretty damn good if you ask me.  not only can we heal our emotional wounds by applying the same methods as we do to physical ones, they also resurface at times when we least expect it.  not unlike my stiff ankle and shoulder, some of the hurts and pains of my life have come up recently.  a year after being offered the job here at oregon state, i am starting to work through some of the things that happened during 2010, and even some of the start of 2011.  i am remembering the pain and shame of experiences i had while trying to pay bills, make ends meet, and survive living in my car in the cold.  recently i've been waking up not knowing where i am, or being surprised i am in a bed.  when i drove to idaho i felt paranoid about traveling without water, food, and a sleeping bag in my car.  these things, just like the soreness of old injuries, came up when i did not expect them. 

so what to do?  well with the ankle and shoulder i am gonna r.i.c.e. that shit, change up my yoga routine, and probably tape the ankle before the next game.  but the rest...well i suppose these things will start to settle out with time.  i know that talking at the faces of homelessness panel helped me to put words to feelings and events that i'd kept in for the most part.  having those honored in a public forum helped.  i also have spent a good amount of time meditating.  in meditation one can start to untie the knots that are formed in one's psyche.  the problem is that, just like physical therapy, it hurts.  also the act of opening oneself up to the untying only surfaces more knots.  this can be exhausting, and i am often tempted to just stop and block it all up again.  sometimes there is just too much.  i noted to a friend tonight that there are times when it seems that living life is synonymous with getting hurt.

of course i don't actually believe that. 

today i wrote a new song.  i am very proud of it both because the guitar part is beautiful and i am very excited that i am able to play it, and because it represents another form of healing.  i spent a great amount of time looking at my most recent relationship - what was good, what went wrong, and what i'd like it to become - and i put it into music.  writing it was beautiful and painful.  when it was done i played it through a number of times as if the singing of the song would somehow draw out the pain and leave me without the stiffness of emotional scar tissue.  after running through it more times than i can count, i realized that though the song is for one person in particular, it applies to the lot of my relationships.  music - another way to untie the knots.

i will say though that despite all of these attempts to heal, there will always be a part of me that is altered by my experiences.  just like the scar on my thumb from when i took a knife through it to the bone, the creaking in my knee from the torn meniscus, or the stiffness in my joints after a soccer game, the emotional injuries will push me to be a slightly different person.  i don't think that this is necessarily a bad thing.  having reminders of past injuries can help us to avoid new ones.  the trick is not to let them box us in.  just because i almost broke my ankle does not mean i should not play soccer now, just as having been through a bad breakup does not mean i should not look for someone to love.  that said, the scars can serve as reminders of things we don't want to relive.  they make us wiser.  if we honor these experiences we learn from them and become stronger people.

i guess this means i have to honor my cranky shoulder - shit.

redemption songs

not too long ago i decided it would be a good idea to put all of the songs i'd written in one place.  up until now they've existed in my head and on a ridiculous looking pile of crumbled and stained reclaimed papers that are taking up a lot of space.  some of them have changed since i've written them.  a couple of them are gone.

so i bought a really pretty notebook and started copying them down.  it was a really interesting experience.  every song has a story, and every story comes from a place of emotion, experience, and energy.  writing them all down brought these back to me as clearly as reliving them. 

i stood on the mesa where i watched the sunrise that inspired 'cowboy.' 

i saw the view from my fetal crouch on the futon in moab, feeling the pain of a terrible breakup in my chest and throat as the words for 'healing song' trickled through my brain. 

i sat halfway up the tuk looking out over the canyonlands belting out the chorus to 'i call your name.'

i listened to the elk and the rattling of the aspen leaves as i composed 'a better dream.'

i laughed with my single-serving hostel friends as i test drove verses for 'protest song.'

there are times when i feel like songwriting and performing are narcissistic exercises.  in order to share the music i write, i need to believe that people will actually want to hear it.  i need to know that what i do is good enough to put out into the audio universe with the conviction that others should listen and will enjoy.  this can be a hard one for me, especially when the songs sit close to my heart.  i wonder why someone would even care to know what i am thinking or feeling - especially when out for a beer or cup of coffee and conversation.  then again, when i think of the songs i like best, they are usually ones that have some kind of personal meaning to the artist.  i love music that conveys something lying close to the core of the person performing it. 

since moving to corvallis i've doubled the number of songs i've written.  actually, i've doubled them in the past 2.5 months.  i find this impressive considering that i've been writing songs for 4 years.  i am not sure what it is about the now that leaves me tapping out new tunes, but i am going with it.  i feel more confident than ever with the guitar, and i am eager to start working on a stage presence.  when i first starting singing with acoustic wave machine i was scared shitless to be on stage.  i knew i had the pipes, and i'd been performing since i was very young, but this was an entirely different animal.  there is a world between singing in the school musical and getting up behind the mic at a downtown bar.  it was SCARY to be up there.  i felt naked and exposed even when no one was looking up at us while we played.  garrett and bennett kept telling me i had to talk to the audience.  it took a year and a pre-show beer, but i got there eventually. 

now that i have the guitar in front of me i feel like i am starting back at square one.  my insecurity about screwing up while playing, along with the fact that i am still finding my voice, makes it tougher for me to get comfortable.  i played a 15 minute set at could 9 a week ago and though i worked hard to keep my eyes open, i did not actually look at the audience.  had i done so i don't think i would have been able to play.  it's not stage fright so much as anxiety.  if i let the anxiety in then i am going to flub the song and i will get even more nervous.  my goal is to work on that - to connect with the people i am playing for and share myself with them.  right now all i am sharing is the music.  i need to get to both in order to be the performer i want to be.

regardless of any struggles, i am really proud of where i have come as a musician.  when i moved to utah and left awm i thought that perhaps that was the end of my stint as a stage performer.  a year in i realized i missed it so badly that i starting working toward learning guitar.  i am so grateful to my friend jim for leaving his acoustic with me for the summer back in 2008.  i did not want to purchase a guitar unless i knew i was going to play it.  those three months i spent picking out the chords to phish's 'dirt' were tough and rewarding.  i still play that song from time to time as a point of nostalgia.  when i reunited with bennett at the string summit this year i told him that initially i regretted leaving idaho and the band, but now i realize that if i hadn't i would still only be a vocalist.  not that this is a bad thing, but i love being able to identify as a singer-songwriter.  i love the feel of the guitar strings under my fingers and i am proud of my callouses.  just another reminder that the things we think are no good often just have to be turned on their ear and they are exactly what we need.

the other day my roommate brian told me that he was putzing around the house singing a song over and over, and then realized that the song was one of mine.  i also was invited to play again at cloud 9 - this time for a 30 minute set.  though certainly i am nowhere near being some kind of accomplished musician (and i am not even sure that is my goal), i count myself lucky to be able to share myself and my music.  i am pleased that people enjoy it, and feel excited that i get positive feedback.  i am looking forward to where this journey takes me next.

music man

had a moment the other night at an open mic in flagstaff. i had already been on stage to play my songs - felt really good about it actually...no jitters this time - and the next act took the stage. i was getting a drink when they were setting up (thanks to the folks at mia's for giving me free drinks for playing!) so i did not see them before they started to play.

acoustic guitar. cello baseline. djembe.

world beats. mellow base. eclectic lyrics.

i was instantly transported. my mind went on time travel to a time in my past. i could smell the smoke, hear the people talking softly below me, feel the cool of the mic in my hand. if i opened my eyes i was sure i could look over and see garrett standing next to me, barefoot, mildly disheveled, and strumming his well-loved guitar. i'd see bennett perched on a chair, beanie on his head, cradling the djembe between his knees. i'd see emily, tall and willowy in her unique thrift store dress, her long hair swaying as she played her trombone. my heart warmed at these thoughts and i felt grateful to this trio for bringing them back to me.

i loved being a member of acoustic wave machine, the strange and folksy hippie band i joined when i lived in washington. i ended up in it totally on accident. i was out one day on my bike and ran into one of my students. she must have picked up on my reputation for being the crazy hippie environmentalist RED because she let me know that there was an earth day festival down the hill in one of the parks. i rode down to check it out.

garrett was playing when i got there. he was up there with three other guys playing the mandolin, banjo and djembe. the songs were interesting - political, environmental, witty and unique. the guitar riffs were lively and the four of them seemed to fit well. it all seemed to work, but i had a hard time listening anyhow. as brilliant a guitarist and lyricist garrett was, he was no singer. he could carry a tune, but one would never classify him as a singer.

the crew ended up their set and joined the crowd to watch the next group up. they ended up walking through the crowd of people lounging on the grass and sat right next to me. now i will say that most of you know me as the person who will literally talk to anyone. i'll chat people up in the supermarket, the bar, the line for the ladies' room, the gym. but this was over 6 years ago and i had not really gotten over my fear that in talking to people they would not push me into a locker or try and stick my head in a toilet. ok, that's a bit drastic. at this point i was more just worried that people would not want to talk to me, so when i turned to these three guys and said something it was a big step for me.

when i tossed the comment "you guys sound great" in their direction it was garrett who replied. "thanks - too bad i can't sing." i had to smile - at least the guy understood his limitations. often people think they are far more vocally talented than they actually are. we see it all the time on american idol - those are not the only people who harbor such illusions - just the ones who make it public. his casual comment about his voice led to great conversation about voice training, vocal exercises and the like. in the end he told me that he wanted to put together a project. apparently the guys he was playing with were not his band. then he tossed in a comment about his vision.

he wanted to front the project with a female vocalist. and he wanted to know if i knew of any.

awesome.

i'll say before i go on with the story that i am seriously impressed with a man who wants a woman to sing his songs. music is pretty much a male-dominated industry. please don't regale me with stories of britney or jewel or madonna or the runaways. i know that there are lots of women in music, but for every woman who is out there as a musician there have to be about ten men. this open mic night i was at is a prime example. in four hours i was the only female to get up there. i guess men are more comfortable taking that kind of risk - it does involve a level of ego that not very many people have. the willingness to think that someone else might want to listen to you.

clearly i have this level of ego - not only do i go to open mic nights...i write this blog.

anyway from this point on garrett earned his way onto my list of top male allies along with brad, dave, francis and my father.

my friend monique was terrified that in going to garrett's for an audition i was signing up to be raped and murdered in some strange man's house. i guess coming from detroit she has good reason to be wary. i guess that even today i enter these situations with a kind of naivete that can be positive but potentially dangerous. in the end she could not convince me to cancel or bring someone with her, but she did get me to sign on to calling her when i got there and taking her phone call 15 minutes later.

by the time i got there i realized she had put her fear into me. i stood at the door for about 10 minutes trying to decide if i should knock.

i really have no clue what i was worried about.

the house was open and naturally lit with hardwood floors covered in worn oriental rugs. the walls were painted with murals and the houseplants were so overgrown that they crisscrossed the ceiling giving me the impression that i was outside. the first thing garrett did was introduce me to his dog cami and cat cleo.

yea, not so much of an axe murderer.

we played covers so he could get a feel for my voice and what i could do. it was a lot of fun. his roommate came in and played on the djembe (that was how i met derek, but that is another story entirely). eventually he told me that he liked what i could do and wanted to play me a recording of one of his songs to see if i could learn it. the woman in the recording was amazing. even to this day i can recall listening to her and thinking there was no way in hell i could do what she could with her voice. i sang along however and garrett seemed pleased.

he invited me to come back next week to meet the rest of the band.

the meeting was great - we jammed and worked on a couple of garrett's songs. everyone was very complimentary and i had a great time.

they invited me to come back next week to play.

and that is how it went for a year. each week we would get together and play and i was told it was great and would i come back next week. we played gigs in parks and coffee shops and bars. each gig we would play and i was told it was great and would i come back next week.

there was never any confirmation i was IN the band. just that. i asked garrett once and he just laughed.

it was an amazing experience that i will always cherish. i learned to be bolder and more willing to take risks. in getting up on stage and singing to people i learned to put myself out there, to talk to the crowd and be comfortable and to connect with others. i found that in projecting my physical voice that i was able to project my energy, my emotion, my mind - i was able to put myself into the world in ways i had never tried. those lessons carried over into my time at aspen, in new zealand, and now as i attend open mic nights, apply for jobs, and seek reentry to graduate school. i am more comfortable with myself - stronger and more confident.

when i left idaho i missed it. i missed the comraderie, the excitement, and most of all, i missed the music. i spent time being miserable about it - i drove back to moscow to play gigs, i felt jealous when they got a new gal to sing in the group. i thought i'd just have to give it all up.

then i remembered those lessons.

i taught myself to play guitar two years ago. it was incredible to be able to accompany myself and i started writing songs. i found that in doing so i took on even more of that confidence. i suppose that is what allows me to get up at open mic nights to play. sitting there in the bar in flagstaff i had to smile at where i've come from and where i hope to go.

thanks brother.